


Monsters, and Men

by coffeeincluded



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Post-Canon, Religious Discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeincluded/pseuds/coffeeincluded
Summary: The Immaculate One was defeated. They won.Now what?Or: Bernadetta goes traveling. Hubert starts his secret war. Both realize how much they miss each other.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	Monsters, and Men

**Author's Note:**

> I got to work with @nevverart for this fic as part of the Ultra Rarepair Bang; check out their artwork here!
> 
> https://twitter.com/nvverart/status/1300882422658146305?s=21

Of course there’d be a parade. They’d just conquered the whole continent, killed The Immaculate One, and overthrew the church; of _course_ Edelgard would hold a massive parade just like the Triumphs of old. Sure, there was a lot more of the speeches and accolades and less of the parading of captives than there were centuries ago, but still! And the part of Bernadetta that would always hate crowds almost wished that there were captives being paraded around. Then the attention would be on _them_ and not _her_!

There wasn’t any getting out of this parade either. She was part of the Black Eagle Strike Force, had fought in Fhirdiad alongside Edelgard, and there _she_ was at the front of the parade with Byleth and Hubert by her side. At least Hubert had placed her in the center of the march, surrounded by her friends and comrades-in-arms at all times. Still, being in a _victory march_ was her worst nightmare. She’d face the flames of Fhirdiad a dozen times over rather than go through this again!

Edelgard and Byleth were too busy to check on her themselves, so Edelgard must have sent Hubert in her stead. Why else would he suddenly appear like a second shadow looking over her, the bright cloth of the needlepoint gladiolus pinned to his chest the only color to him other than his glimmering green eyes?

“We’re almost to the palace,” he whispered, barely audible above the din of the crowd, familiarity the one thing cutting through the roar in her head. “Lady Edelgard will be giving out awards and accolades.”

“I can’t back out of this, can I?”

“How would it look, for you to be passed over in front of everyone?” Hubert frowned, then added, “I made sure your acknowledgement will be in the middle of the ceremony, to minimize any attention placed on you.”

That thoughtful little detail…he didn’t have to. It would have been so easy to forget or not even think of it, especially when she knew he had organized pretty much the entire parade. She could do this! She had to meet them halfway! She’d fought in a _war!_

That knowledge, the resolve that she’d found and the people who believed in her, whom she believed in in turn, kept her standing as Edelgard, and then Hubert, pinned the medals to her chest. Acknowledgment for being wounded in battle and fighting on regardless. Valor for standing strong against the church, for rushing into the flames again and again. The medals were cool against her chest, and Bernadetta was surprised at how well they contrasted at the hot flare of pride she felt when the words, “Well done,” were whispered into her ear. 

She fiddled with her medals as Edelgard bestowed even more upon her friends, but the thought still crept into her mind: _now what?_

Petra was returning to Brigid, her participation in the war having secured her nation’s independence and alliance with Adrestia. She and Edelgard had already started discussing a new trade deal on the long march back to Enbarr. Ferdinand was appointed the next Prime Minister, not because he was a von Aegir but because he’d _earned_ it. And where did that leave her, Bernadetta von Varley? The von Varleys were the Empire’s ministers of religion, but one of the goals of this war was to dismantle the corrupt nobility. And they had, quite literally, killed their gods. 

She could just go back to Varley territory, hibernate in the old manor now that her father was gone...but she didn’t want to do that anymore. The world wasn’t always this big scary thing she’d been beaten into believing it was. Especially since she could defend herself now! Petra, knowing her better than she knew herself sometimes, had pushed her into accompanying her to Brigid, and she’d lost herself in the jungles for hours just sketching all the vibrant plant and animal life that could never grow in the colder and drier Fodlan. 

Bernadetta shouldn’t have been surprised that Hubert noticed. Hubert always noticed such things, especially when it came to her. So she really, _really_ shouldn’t have been so surprised when, after Hubert told them about _a war in the shadows against evil underground mole men who kidnapped and tortured Edelgard and Lysithea and killed countless other people and worse_ he approached her with a request. 

“You want me to what?”

“You said you know the best places to hide, did you not? Not to mention your skill with illustrations is remarkable. This will allow you to assist the Empire in more peaceful ways while still rooting out our enemies. What do you say?”

It was a good idea. Actually, it was almost tailor-made for her, at least within the bounds of what Hubert and Edelgard and well the entire Empire, she guessed, required. Perhaps more importantly, she didn’t want to let Hubert down. 

“How often do you want me to write?”

* * *

This fog had to be magical, right? It was a bright sunny day, the clear crisp air of autumn all around Bernadetta, but the moment the forest thinned enough for Lake Teutates to come into view, well. She only glimpsed a second of clear shoreline before that same thick fog descended, making it impossible for her to see more than a couple of meters before her face. 

Bernadetta lit a torch, burning away a bit more fog. Just enough for her horse to carefully navigate the pathways of the half-submerged temple. Just enough for her to hear the sounds of battle. Just enough for her to see the shadows of that giant talking surprisingly friendly turtle-like creature which Leonie called Mister Magic Beast locked in combat with…

The creatures that Mister Magic Beast was fighting were...human. Or at least human-shaped. But Bernie knew the difference between men wearing the skin of monsters and monsters wearing the skin of men. Ashen skin, odd blades, dark magic, these were the people Hubert warned them about! What were they called, right, Those Who Slither In The Dark! Whatever they wanted with Mister Magic Beast, it couldn’t be good. 

“Hang on, Mister Magic Beast!” Bernie spurred her horse onwards, as fast as she could go across the half-submerged floors without slipping and falling into the lake. The torch burned through the worst of the fog and her eyes were always keen; The Inexhaustable hummed in time with the crest in her blood as she let two arrows fly in swift succession. 

One of the Slitherers screamed as he fell. Three more broke off from Mister Magic Beast to train their eyes on her. 

Gulp. Well then. “Okay Bernie, you’ve got this.” She lept off her horse—there were too many stairs from here on out, and how could she put her faithful warhorse in danger?—and ran towards the altar. 

She somersaulted under the first sticky Mire spell, remembering what Hubert had told her about dark magic’s long casting times and how to read the movement of a spell’s trajectory, but bit back a yelp as the second Mire clipped her shoulder. It _burned_ , even though she was the best non-caster at resisting magic attacks in the entire Strike Force, and she felt the adrenaline sharpen her senses, self preservation and a willful defiance she had grown to embrace over the years spurring on her attacks. 

Bernadetta lowered her head and ran right past the mages, whipped around and fired her bow twice—then, with a flash of her crest, twice more. One of the dark mages fell with a gurgle. The other was knocked into the lake. He sank into the rapidly blooming pool of red, and did not come up again. 

Taking advantage of their split attention, Mister Magic Beast roared and whipped around his head with surprising speed, crushing one of his attackers in his jaw. That power of a charged attack that Bernadetta knew from other magical creatures suddenly unleashed in a rush, and Mister Magic Beast _summoned a tidal wave_ to sweep four of his assaulters into the water, easy pickings for Bernadetta. 

“Good followup,” he rumbled, and then he _activated his crest._

And it was a crest of Indech. Just like hers. 

Bernadetta didn’t have time to unpack that right now, not in the middle of combat! One of the assassins had jumped onto Mister Magic Beast’s shell; she snipped him off before he had a chance to fire an arrow right into the back of his skull. 

The fight ended with the last assailant crushed under Mister Magic Beast’s giant foot. Bernadetta swallowed down the sight—she was no stranger to gore now, and it was life or death. When the last echoes of combat died down, and the water washed away the blood, Mister Magic Beast turned to her and said, “Thank you for that. But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I…” she paused and raised her bow. Well, his bow. A sacred weapon tied to the Crest of Indech, which she bore the gift and burden of. And which Mister Magic Beast apparently had too. Just who, or what, was he? “You gave this to us, about a year ago. I wanted to return it. It’s a bit beat up, but I also bought some mythril to repair it! Though I’m not much of a blacksmith…”

“Ah, I remember now. You were quite amusing. Why, I hadn’t had that much fun with the children of Men in ages!” He turned his giant head, the size of Bernadetta’s entire torso, to eye her. “You seem rather timid, little one. You do not believe me to be a horrifying monster, do you?”

Bernadetta had been raised to be terrified of monsters. But the monsters in her life were always in the shape of men. Men who were all smiles and empty platitudes in public, but were all too happy to use their hidden fangs and claws behind closed doors for themselves. Creatures that looked like monsters to everyone else weren’t as scary to Bernie, especially not after she was able to center herself and get away from the daily terror of home that just reinforced her anxiety. If she could see their fangs and claws then there couldn’t be any nasty surprises. And since other people were afraid of them and kept their distance, she could always get the space she still sometimes needed in the shadows of monsters. 

The issue with Rhea, or the Immaculate One, or whatever she had decided to call herself in her delusions of godhood and divine authority, wasn’t that she was actually a big scary dragon-thing. It was that she pretended to be human while being a big scary dragon-thing. More importantly, she hid her fangs and claws both inside and out. Rhea was perfectly kind and understanding, all smiles and comforting words and a hand on the shoulder...when you did as she asked and revered her and her church. But the moment anyone defied her, well. Rhea only had love for good little boys and girls who were quiet and meek and did as they were told. 

Hubert was...somewhere in the middle. He looked terrifying, and it was a human terrifying instead of the monsters under her bed who could only _threaten_ scary things. And he enjoyed being scary! At least, it seemed he did. But as she got to know him better, it seemed more like Hubert’s scary was something else. He was naturally scary with his death grin and dark hair over glowing green eyes and deep laugh and way of weaving threats that honestly made Bernie a little jealous, but it was a tool just like fangs and claws. And he liked being scary to his enemies, but that was to keep his friends and family safe. Hubert wouldn’t have worn the flower if he wanted Bernie to be scared of him. 

That’s why Bernie shook her head and said, “No. I know what real monsters look like.” 

Mister Magic Beast blinked, then let out a laugh—a rumbling peal that caused the water around them to ripple. “I like you, little one!” Then he seemed to remember herself and the laughter died away just as quickly. “And yet you and your companions killed Seiros, and tore down her church. I should be furious about that—and I suppose I am—but you clearly hold no hostility towards me, nor are you aligned with _those_ true monsters. Not to mention you bear my crest. So I do not believe you would take such drastic action without good reason. Why did you do it, Little One?”

So this was it. This was how she was going to die. Killed by a giant beast in revenge for...wait…Bear _my_ crest? A chill went down Bernadetta’s spine as she took another look at Mister Magic Beast. His off-white scales. The intelligence...and pain, and deep anger in his eyes. The Crest of Indech, carved into his forehead. “Um, Mister Magic Beast? What’s your actual name?” 

Mister Magic Beast closed his eyes for just a moment. “Mister Magic Beast is entertaining, but I’m more often known as The Immoveable. Or Indech.”

Indech. As in, Saint Indech. As in, _her crest was passed down through her family and ultimately given to her by Mister Magic Beast._ Who was Saint Indech, because Saint Indech was the same as Saint Serios and a giant magic beast instead of a person. Not a goddess, nothing divine. Just a giant dragon-thing that controlled humanity and bled green. The laughter tore itself from her chest before she even realized it. “Heh. Heheh. Hehahahahahahaha!!! Of course you are! Of course you’re Saint Indech! Did the first Varley know? Did they agree to pretend you were human and not this...whatever you are? What did you do when people said no, make an example of them just like Rhea—no, _Seiros_ —did? Were you also there to tell people to worship this stupid crest I never asked for and ruined my life and ruined basically every single one of my classmates’ lives? Was any part of it _not_ a lie?”

Mister Magic—no, _Indech_ , let out a sigh that shook the foundations of the sunken temple. “I think I’m getting a picture. Come here, Little One. I won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”

“I...Bernadetta. Bernadetta von Varley.” How was she not screaming, or running away? Even when they faced down The Immaculate One in the burning ruins of Fhirdiad, she had all her friends beside her. Now, she was alone with one of her kin. And yet something in her blood sang familiarity. It was the stupid crest, wasn’t it? 

Indech got that distant look again. “Ah, I remember the first Varley. They were such a gentle soul, and perhaps that made them burn at the sight of people being treated unfairly. It seems as though you’ve encountered a lot of pain in your life, Little One—no, Bernadetta. If I may ask, what has happened? What has changed?” 

Everything. “You...you won’t be mad?”

Indech shook his head, which was still absolutely bizarre to see on a giant turtle-like beast. “Seiros always needed to be in control, especially after...well, after. But I am not Seiros, and what’s done is done. I am angry, and grieving, but I wish to understand.”

Her crest sang trust, and he reminded her of her uncle, and the bodies of Those Who Slithered bobbing in the water spoke to Indech’s power. If he wanted her dead, she’d have been eaten by now. And Hubert was way scarier, and he...he was…

She told Indech everything. The years of abuse. The superiority of (crest-bearing) nobles and inferiority of commoners quite literally beaten into her. The teachings of the Church of Seiros compared to the reality. What happened in the Holy Tomb. What happened in _Fhirdiad._ All of it. By the time she was done she felt drained, like a lanced abscess, and Indech was silent.

When he finally spoke, it was with a weight that made Bernadetta, for the first time, truly comprehend just how old Indech probably was. “I cannot say I am happy with it,” he rumbled, “but I believe I understand. The Church of Seiros had become rigid and brittle. You and your companions suffered greatly under it, so it is no surprise that you lashed out.” He stared at the water, now tinged pink with blood. A motion of that giant scaled paw, and it washed away. “And for my part, I am sorry.”

“Wait, what?” How did this turn into _Indech_ apologizing to _her_ when she’s the one who helped kill his...whatever Seiros really was to him, and tear down the system he helped create? 

“Although it was not my intent, I helped create a system that wound up harming people in the end, and although I saw the signs of it before retreating I did not intervene back when Seiros would have listened. Through inaction, I harmed you and countless others. Perhaps, if we had been more flexible, had we listened to your grievances rather than fleeing or crushing any dissent, Seiros would still be alive, and the church would not have rotted in its shell. As it is, we were not, and so we paid the price. I am still furious, and I can’t say that we had it coming, or that we deserved it, but…”

“What did you expect was going to happen,” Bernadetta finished, and then she froze. That wasn’t too forward of her, was it? Or insulting him? She didn’t know the details but he’d lost so much...

“Precisely,” Indech murmured, and her worries slipped away once more. “We wanted to keep ourselves safe, and that is still my greatest wish, but injuring others in the process is no justice at all. I hope you can forgive an old man for his errors, Bernadetta von Varley.”

She wanted to be angry at him. She wanted to yell in his face, take out all her frustration which still swirled, for years and years of pain didn’t heal that easily. But what would it have done? Edelgard won, and The Immaculate One was dead. Now there was the future, so frightening and so free. What was the point of holding on to that anger towards Indech? And he was hurting too. And so Bernie said, “I get it, Mister...Indech. If I were left to my own devices, I’d run away and hide too. So I can’t exactly be angry at you for doing that.” She leaned down and let the water, oddly warm, trail through her fingers. “Though I’m glad I left my room. There’s all sorts of things I got to see and do because I left. I guess I have Hubert to thank for pushing me too.”

“Who exactly is this Hubert? I’ve heard stories of a man with that name who is the emperor’s merciless shadow, but you speak his name so fondly.”

Whoops. “I didn’t say that out loud, did I?”

“You did,” Indech chuckled, and again Bernadetta somehow knew that it was meant as nothing more than a good-natured tease. 

“Well, he’s uh, wait you’re not going to take this out on him are you?”

He shook his head. “You spared Cichol and Cethlean, and it seems we share the same common enemy of the Agarthans. I know when I am defeated.”

Agarthans, that’s what Indech(!) called Those Who Slithered In The Dark, Hubert would want to know that title, if only because it was less of a mouthful. And Cichol and Cethlean, he couldn’t possibly mean—?! Still, best to be careful. Hubert would expect her to be circumspect! So she told Indech about Hubert’s best qualities. His determination. His hidden wellsprings of compassion that took her ages to realize. His, well, she couldn’t call it ruthlessness, not after what The Immaculate One did to Fhirdiad. _That_ was a lack of limits. If it has been the other way around, Hubert would have laid down his life for Edelgard, but he wouldn’t have let Enbarr and its over-a-million-inhabitants burn. But nothing specific about his strengths and weaknesses, or just how wide or deep his connections went. 

Perhaps she was one of his connections now. But she liked that idea, that here she was, doing something only she could do that would help him. 

“No pettiness, no vengeance, no bloodlust without meaning or purpose...yes, it is somewhat different from last time.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Pay it no heed, Bernadetta. You’ll find out soon enough, I imagine. But it sounds like you’re rather fond of this Hubert.”

Despite the clear attempt to change the subject, Bernadetta found herself blushing. “Yeah...I suppose I am.”

* * *

Hubert was in the imperial gardens with Dorothea and Lady Edelgard when the letter arrived, where the bright floral scent of tea mingled with the smell of falling leaves. He took another sip while listening to Dorothea’s observations on the effects of Her Majesty’s poverty reforms. Objective reports were crucial, yes, but Dorothea grew up in those neglected streets. Her input and observations, though subjective and often graphically detailed, were invaluable. At least the news this time complemented this tea well. It was a bergamot tea with several different floral notes which Ferdinand could probably identify with a single whiff but Hubert did not care enough to attempt. The creator of the tea had decided to call it _Imperial White_ despite it being a black tea, due to Her Majesty’s love of the blend, and sell it to the public. By the time either of them realized the name, it had unfortunately stuck. 

Hubert shook his head. Relative peace was causing his mind to wander and that would not do. This was the hidden war of House Vestra, after all. Thankfully the letter on the table was more than enough to attract his attention. 

“Ah, it appears that Bernadetta’s report has arrived.” True, there was no official signature, but the flower scratched into the sealing wax was as good as one. Hubert adjusted its likeness pinned to his suit and read her letter out loud. Most of it was comparatively mundane—reports from the ground of Lady Edelgard’s efforts at stability and reform, samples of plants complete with gorgeously-detailed sketches, notes on their properties, dried samples and seeds, and so forth. But it was the postscript that made him pause. He scanned its contents again, making sure that he had decoded the cipher correctly, then folded it up and placed it in his pocket, right behind the flower. Dorothea was trusted, yes, but even the imperial gardens could have hidden ears. This information would be shared with Her Majesty alone. 

_...I know what you’re going to say, but Indech isn’t like Rhea. From what he told me, he retreated from the Church of Seiros out of distaste for its actions some time ago, and regrets not playing a more active role, or not trying harder to rein in The Immaculate One. Or Seiros, I guess, though it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? Anyway! He’s not going to work with us, not after what we did, but he doesn’t want to fight us either. And I’m pretty sure we both have the same enemies. Those Who Slither In The Dark were trying to kill him, and I helped him fend them off. Indech didn’t seem too surprised by the attack. In fact, he had a name for them: Agarthans. He intimated that there are additional secrets regarding Relics and Crests in their nests. So you’ll leave him alone, right?_

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Hubert chuckled to himself. Perhaps he would wait some time before showing this to Lady Edelgard. She did not need to deal with such stressors right now.

“Someone’s enjoying their correspondence,” Dorothea teased. “What, are we not good enough company for you?”

“If I have issues with anybody’s company, it is certainly not Lady Edelgard’s.” Dorothea, for all her insecurities, could take the banter from him for what it was. He never realized how much he would end up appreciating even something as small as that. 

“Oh really now? Don’t forget that Edie invited me to this meeting. You’re not getting out of this one, Hubie.”

“Hubert,” Lady Edelgard said, coming to his rescue. 

Dorothea noticed, of course. “Feh, you’re no fun. So what imperial assignment do you have for him, Edie?”

“Well,” she said, a gleam in her eyes that warmed Hubert every time he saw it, “I order you to take a walk in the gardens. Perhaps behind those climbing vines?”

A rather odd request, but who washe to turn down Her Majesty? “As you wish,” he said with a small bow, not breaking eye contact until he had ducked behind the climbing vines—

—Where Bernadetta was tending to some other plants who existed merely for decoration and so whose names he did not know. Years of service in the shadows had left him with silent footsteps, and she continued unaware of his presence, at least until he let out a single polite cough and made sure the flower pinned to his lapel was easily visible. 

The yelp she let out was more of a squeak, one that she clapped back into her mouth upon recognizing him. “Hubert, there you are!”

What could he do but let out his signature low chuckle? “I thought you wouldn’t be back for at least a week.”

Her smile was softer than any he deserved to have directed towards him. “I wanted to surprise you. Also, I kinda skipped the stop at Varley for now.”

She said it with a certain distance, as though she no longer called it home. But then again, it never truly was. “You wanted to be back here that badly?”

“Yeah, actually! Though also, I, uh, I...don’t be mad Hubert but I...don’t really want to be the next Minister of Religion.”

That was what needled ar her anxiety so? He really should have mentioned this to her before. True, Bernadetta had just all but confirmed that she would agree with their decision, and working with others outside Lady Edelgard was still something he was getting used to, but she still deserved to have some input. He would have to do better about that next time. “Bernadetta, this is not to be shared publicly, but when the church’s reformation is complete we plan on dissolving the Ministry of Religion and officially separating the church from state affairs.”

The trowel slipped through her fingers; honed reflexes had her scrabbling the air for a split second before she caught it between pinched fingers. “You’re what? I mean, not that I don’t agree, and it definitely makes things a lot easier for me, but why?”

“If the church and state are intertwined, then by definition one must be a member of the church and faith to be considered a part of the state. The inverse implication is clear: if one is _not_ a member of the church, then they are also outside the bounds of the state. Apostates are considered excluded from society and its laws and protections. In extreme cases, they may even be denied personhood. Furthermore, it encourages people to accept their place in society and not strive for more. This is antithetical to the world that Lady Edelgard and I...that we all have fought and killed to create.”

“Separating the two will let people be part of Adrestia without being part of the church. So nobody would have to convert to be considered a citizen. That’s...yeah, that’s a big deal, but I also think it’s a really good thing!” She paused, playing her fingers together. “Uh, Hubert, this is probably the stupidest question anybody has ever asked you—“

“Somehow, I highly doubt that,” he could not help but interject. 

“—Heheh. But Hubert, do you hate the goddess, or just the church?”

“I—“ Hubert started to speak, and then faltered. He was about to scoff, of course he hated the goddess, almost as much as he hated the institutions set up to worship her. And yet it was not quite so simple as that. He was deflecting, he knew, trying to buy time to collect the swirl of thoughts and painful memories, but he also had to ask, “What about you?”

“Don’t want to answer?” Bernadetta teased, and _oh_ it twisted warm and painfully deep in Hubert, that she was now comfortable enough to tease him back. “But...honestly, I think I have a weird relationship too. Even though my father was the Minister of Religion, I really don’t think he believed in the Goddess. He was more...ugh, how do I say this? He was more invested in the trappings of the religion. The, uh, the shell of rituals and ceremonies and stuff? I mean, didn’t he use all of that to illegally get money for himself too?”

He had. It was just one of the many charges carefully researched and held against that wretched waste of air; one of the many reasons why he was now, thanks to a mercy from Bernadetta that he did not deserve, languishing in exile on some forgotten island off the coast of Enbarr. Hopefully in a few years he would die there and be quickly forgotten by history. “Such a shame, that much of the church had become just as corrupt and self-aggrandizing as the nobility.”

“My uncle was a believer though,” Bernadetta added as she stroked one of the flowers in the garden. She practically scratched it like a dog, and Hubert could almost imagine the plant relaxing under her gentle touch, stretching towards her as if she were a second sun. “His belief was more like the Goddess helps those who helped themselves. I wanted to believe like my uncle did, but I saw my father’s hypocrisy day in and day out, so I’m not really sure what I believed. And it doesn’t really matter much anymore, does it?”

No, it did not. Would that he had been raised in the faith the way her uncle had apparently believed. Instead Hubert had, “I was raised to fear the Goddess and her power. When I was a very young child, I would sometimes have nightmares that I would be cast into hell for my wicked thoughts and deeds, my failures to protect Lady Edelgard, and the like.”

Bernadetta gave him a soft smile. “I’d say that you were a kid and couldn’t have wicked thoughts or deeds, but you’re Hubert,” she attempted to tease before her face flushed. “I, oh that wasn’t too much was it?”

“It’s fine,” he chuckled. “That was pretty funny. But as I was saying, I used to be terrified of the goddess. Then I grew up and learned to fear men.” He fell silent, the only sounds that of Bernadetta fidgeting with some of the climbing vines, tying together a few of the climbing stalks that had leaned over from the thunderstorm last night. She was so attentive, in the way she paused her efforts to concentrate on him as his thoughts wove themselves into coherent words for the first time. “I stopped believing around the time when Lady Edelgard was taken, if I ever truly believed at all. I searched for months, chased after her, and finally, alone in my room and desperate, I prayed. Nobody answered, of course. There would never be any help from the goddess.”

There it was. “I suppose if you had to make me choose between love and hate, then yes I hate the goddess. I am not like Lady Edelgard, who does not believe at all. I...hate the goddess, for not existing. When I was not indoctrinated in fear, I was told that the goddess was benevolent, omnipresent and omnipotent.” His hand curled into fists, and Bernadetta’s eyes went slightly wide. Was he scaring her, or did she understand? “Then where was she, when Lady Edelgard and her siblings were held beneath the palace? Where was she when you and her and all of Fodlan cried out in pain, begging for salvation that would never come? Eventually, I suppose I came to three possibilities. Either she never existed at all and everything was a lie, she was a blind and helpless idiot, or she was actively malevolent. None of those describe a deity worthy of my worship, much less anybody’s.”

“Hubert, don’t sell yourself short like that,” Bernadetta chided. “But I get it. Truth be told, I’m not really sure what I believe in anymore. I definitely hope that things will be better, and I think that it will be, but there’s no way to know whether or not things will continue to be better once we’re gone. So I guess we need to, well, believe that things will be better? I guess that is belief.”

What could he do but chuckle? “If that is the case, then I suppose I believe in Lady Edelgard and her cause instead of the church. Perhaps this is something else we can blame the church for, indoctrinating the people of Fodlan that there is only one narrow definition of faith and belief.”

“One more thing for us to fix, I guess,” Bernadetta mused. “Hubert, there’s so _much._ And that isn’t even getting into these Agarthans! Or what about the other magic beasts pretending to be saints? Indech seemed okay, and I get the feeling that, except for Rhea, a lot of them just want to be left alone like me.”

“Then we shall have a mutual non-aggression pact,” Hubert promised. Humanity should not be ruled by beasts removed from human lifespans and concerns, but that did not mean they had no right to exist at all. “We will all have to work together for a better Fodlan.”

“I do this for all of us,” Bernadetta murmured into a plant of some kind, the same mantra she told herself before every battle in the war. “Although I don’t want to be traveling forever?”

“Really?” Bernadetta enjoyed being alone, and her personal messages to Hubert at the end of her letters clearly portrayed that calm joy. “My my, Bernadetta, are you looking to retreat back into your room already?”

“N-no!” she cried out into the plant, face bright pink. “I...uh, well, maybe? Just...not alone. Maybe...with you…”

And there it was: the one thing that both of them had been dancing around this entire time, out there in the open. Bernadetta braced herself, the old fears bubbling up as some subconscious part of her almost certainly readied herself for rejection. 

Hubert just smiled. “Of course. And afterwards, well, you have years of exploration to make up for, Bernadetta. Whenever you return, I will be waiting for you.” 

She smiled, and even though two layers of gloves the hand that slipped into his was soft and warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, and enjoying, and thank YOU @nvverart for working with me on this! 
> 
> It was really fun to delve into their thoughts on religion, and I didn’t quite expect them to go the places they did. That’s something that happens with Hubert a lot when I write him, I’ve noticed. But in any case, thank you all for reading and enjoying!


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